Samson

I never considered the power of my own hair until I was shaving it all away.

It is so much easier maintaining a shaved head than a full head of hair, and I need to take all the easy shortcuts I can if I’m going to try and make a full year of traveling. I knew I would have to shave my head at some point, and India just felt like the right place and time to do it.

I had no tarp or anything to catch the clumps of hair, so I spread my raincoat on the floor instead. My red hair has always been one of my most attractive features, but I realized its power was dependent on the body it grew from. Heaped on my bright green raincoat, it looked listless, devoid of any magic or beauty.

Looking in the mirror I see now orange peach fuzz, the kind described by my mother when I was born: “an orange glow” about my head.

That was why Samson could not bring the columns down. His hair had no magic at all. No, when he saw his fresh-shaved head in the mirror he saw the powerless child he had once been and now was again.